Assassin
by Animatized
Summary: AU. The son of a successful dealer on the black market, Draco Malfoy is known as the one and only Slytherin, a sly and deadly assassin. However, when Draco is given the task of killing the multi-billionaire Harry Potter, things started to change... SLASH


A/N: Animatized is a writing duo between me, Natsue Arishima, and Kimiko Hiraki. Kimi won't be participating in this story, however. If you'd like to read some of her things (though she doesn't write Harry Potter) feel free to check out some of her stories. holds up advertisement sign

It's been a while since I've attempted to start a completely serious work (sadly enough, it seems as if more readers enjoy my simple writing instead of my complex works), so I'm going to try and to write something that is completely different from anything else that I've written before. Hopefully, you'll enjoy reading it too. If not, gomen! Reviews and constructive criticism would be extremely helpful, so that I can attempt to fix my writing. Also, forgive me if some things don't make sense in this story (I don't really know how a professional assassin would act…).

This is an Alternate Universe fic, and takes place in a dark, populated England, many years from now. Think pollution, buildings, people, technology, and crime, and you've basically mapped out the location.

Another important note: as some of you may also know, the meaning of a good romance to me is the gradual build in character, enough so that when two people finally do get together, it makes sense and doesn't seem awkward. Therefore, if you are a person who reads merely for sudden smut and such, as in the characters just meet and are moments later ripping each other's clothes off, I suggest you hit that back button up there, since this story may not appeal to you and the first few chapters may also bore you to no end.

Pairings will most likely be Harry/Draco and Ron/Hermione (throwing a little Sirius/Remus wouldn't hurt either). And also, if the beginning is a bit confusing, sorry! I'm just having a hard time introducing characters. And speaking of characters, forgive me if they seem a bit OOC, especially Ron and Hermione, but I only wrote them that way because that was how I had always thought they'd be. Personally, I think that J.K. Rowling and I have very different minds…

Oh and forgive me if the updates are slow. I often develop writer's block in between chapters. But support helps a lot and usually gets me writing a lot faster. hint hint

Disclaimer: The usual. I don't own Harry Potter. Yada yada…

_Prologue:_

"Oi! Say cheese to the camera!" The redhead flashed the woman a wide grin. She raised an eyebrow at him and smiled back, faintly, but besides that gave no indication that she had seen him, shaking her head and walking away. "So serious," the redhead pouted as he changed his attention back onto the small treat in his hand and realized that it was melting. "Gah!"

There was a click as the cameraman decided the moment apropos to his liking.

Laughing slightly, a black-haired man stretched and got up off of the park bench. "You know she can't be seen around us in public," he murmured softly to his companion. Several small children passed him, giggling and some shyly stepping up for hugs. The man returned them cheerfully, nearly succeeding in naming all of the kids.

"You're too soft, Harry," the redhead muttered as a boy pointed towards his ice cream cone. The two were engaged in a silent tug-of-war until the redhead finally gave in. The boy ran off with the half-eaten treat.

"Cheer up, Ron. Is that how you treat Ginny?"

Ron scoffed, running a hand through his red hair that defied gravity even without the help of hair gel. "Whatever. I've gotta get to work. Take care, and watch out! There's no telling when someone's gonna come and kidnap you. Either that or you'll be eaten by fans dying for some of your money…" he teased before jogging off.

Harry blinked, taking off his glasses and rubbing his green eyes. "There's nothing I need to watch out for!" he hollered after his friend while in the process of handing out lollipops.

**Assassin**

Natsue Arishima

**Chapter One**

Draco Malfoy leaned back into his armchair, silver eyes narrowing at the message that flashed across the screen. He repeated the words in his head, his brows furrowing. His unnaturally pale, almost translucent hand hovered over the keyboard, uncertain yet not knowing why.

So this was his new assignment. One that he could easily refuse but also couldn't turn down. To refuse a request from Tom Riddle, otherwise know as Voldemort to the public and police, was as almost as good as signing his own death wish.

Mysterious, powerful, and worshipped by many of his henchmen, Tom Riddle was not a man to be messed with. The few who had unfortunately seen him without an earlier note were either assassinated shortly after or placed under his control. No one dared to question his authority and strength, for to question a man with such unfathomable power would only result in punishment and death.

Draco prided himself with his independence. He was a damn good assassin himself, and not many risked crossing his path. He was Draco Malfoy, the deadly one-and-only Slytherin, son of Lucius Malfoy, a successful dealer in the black market. Not even one as powerful as Riddle could get him to serve willingly.

He would have eagerly killed Riddle the first time. All he had needed was to pull the trigger and the bullet would have shot directly through the man's immensely thick skull. But no. Riddle was too well protected, too well connected. Not that Draco minded the consequences — risking his life was part of his job. He just couldn't stand the fact that Riddle would continue surviving while he remained in hell.

For years, Draco's number one target had been Tom Riddle. His determination had doubled after one of Riddle's plans included the successful assassination of Narcissa Malfoy — his mother. Lucius Malfoy had never been an affectionate man, so Draco had looked up to his mother instead. And after realizing who had caused her death…

No. Draco could wait. He would kill Riddle, but only after things had cooled down a bit. Why risk it when he had finally earned the mob king's trust? And since the man had offered him a good deal, why push it aside?

His eyes skimmed down to the end of the email and a smirk pulled at his thin lips. At least the reward was good.

Kill Harry Potter.

Frowning, Draco sat up again, a lock of smooth, silver hair falling in front of his eyes. He read the short message again, drinking in every word.

Kill Harry Potter. Go to the downtown mall at 6:30.

It was too blunt, too vague, and yet… it had been signed by the one and only Tom Riddle.

The man with the name of Harry Potter must have been important to have had the mob king sign a request himself. Draco looked down at his watch, a friend both when it came to time and when it came to kill. 5:48. He still had plenty of time.

Gazing back at the message, he sighed, crossing his slim arms over a narrow chest. Harry Potter. The multi-billionaire, Harry Potter. Yep, this could cause a minor problem.

Usually, Draco could have popped up with a number of questions as to why. But this time it was obvious. Too blatantly obvious. Riddle wanted the money. All of it. And yet… to kill a man almost as equally connected as Riddle himself… Would he dare risk it?

"As if that bastard needs any more money…" Draco murmured, tapping his watch in slight annoyance. A glinting string of wire shot out of the smooth metal and Draco caught it in between his fingers, playing with it absentmindedly like a piece of hair. Silver eyes narrowed at the message once more.

"The mall, hmm…?"

He didn't like publicizing. Looking out of a partially-shuttered window, the city in which he had grown up glittered innocently back at him, its once clean air filthy and polluted. Down below, swarms of people populated the streets and sidewalks. He mentally shuddered in disgust. The city was never clean anymore. There was only one street that he had visited and he had partially liked — and that belonged under the property of Mr. Harry Potter.

Like the style that he preferred when killing, Draco despised anything dirty. That was why he was famous with other criminals for strangling the victim rather than shooting — blood was too damn messy to wash off. He tore his gaze from the window and focused it on the wire that he was playing with; the wire that had killed countless numbers of people and the wire that he still used.

With a numbing jolt, he checked his watch again. Almost six. He couldn't believe that he had been stalling this long. Long fingers tapped in several commands and he leaned back, head resting on a hand. If the email was a fake… Well, it wasn't like he had anything better to do.

_"Searching for Harry Potter's data," _an artificial voice spoke surly as a blank screen replaced the email. _"Closing email."_

The seconds passed and Draco's eyes drifted shut. Slowly, he leaned back in his chair once more, silver eyes drifting onto the ceiling. He wanted sleep. To be in complete bliss, where time and money didn't matter…

_"Found accurate data," _the voice droned in monotone and Draco sat back up again, focusing on the minimized files that the computer had selected. Sighing, he placed a finger on the electric sensor embedded in his mouse pad and waited until the scanning was done. _"Draco Malfoy, age 25."_ The female voice quieted and the windows maximized. Satisfied with his fingerprint, he was allowed to manually jump to and from the many files on the screen.

_Damn security system…_ It was a complete waste of time. Shaking his head, he ushered out the familiar thoughts that followed every scanning.

"Harry Potter," he murmured, eyes scanning the page. "27 years old… Born July 17, 2154…" He sighed, closing that window. He wanted the important information. Maybe a blue print of the Potter Mansion. Hmm… Family background. He'd read that later. If he had time, maybe a little look into the man's security…

The trained assassin blinked as a picture came onto the screen. _He looks too nice to be rich_, Draco mused idly, examining the startling green eyes under slim glasses and messy black hair. The lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead, barely visible underneath his hair, proved him to be the real Harry Potter; it had been the result of a previous taxi accident that killed both mother and father when he was a boy.

Closing that window, Draco started when another picture popped up, this time of a smiling Harry waving at a brunette woman with her back turned against the camera. Another man with fiery red hair sat next to Harry, busy with a quickly melting ice-cream cone. The date on the bottom claimed that it had been taken a week ago.

For a few seconds, Draco wondered how it would be like to be Harry Potter, the genius of a computer company. Did the man know how lucky he was? To have friends that he could trust and free time to spend? What were Potter's key worries? Probably his social life, money, or maybe even women. Strangely enough, Potter was still single. Draco scoffed. Way to take advantage of the fact that one, Potter was rich; two, Potter was good looking; three, did he mention that Potter was rich?

Frowning without noticing it, Draco closed that window too, glad that there were no remaining pictures. Time was ticking, and he couldn't waste it.

Hermione Granger impatiently backed the wounded and shaking criminal against the wall, her gun pushed lightly into his throat. The man looked terrified, and Hermione admitted that she might had given him too hard of a beating. She never knew that high-heels could make _that_ much of a difference. But it wasn't like the man should have been on the point of insanity just with a few kicks. She decided that she didn't need to tell him that the gun was, in fact, unloaded.

"Why'd Riddle send you to check up on me?" she hissed dangerously.

The man swallowed, shaking in fear but managing a strong answer. "He didn't. I came myself, because I couldn't trust you. And I was right, wasn't I, sweetie? You work for that damned Cornelius Fudge. Pretty as you are, you don't fool me. And to think, Tom Riddle trusted—"

Hermione narrowed her brown eyes, placing more pressure on her gun, watching with quiet satisfaction as the man gasped for air and immediately quieted. The brunette looked at him before putting on a fake smile. "Double agent," she said quietly. "Very clever. You never know when a friend will stab you in the back, right Nott?"

Yep, he was one of the many supporters of Tom Riddle, judging by the strange tattoo just visible on the crook of his elbow. Foolish bastards. What idiot would have been stupid enough to wear a short-sleeved shirt in front of a trained spy? Especially a spy who had been part of the group that had attempted to track the mob king 'Voldemort' down for five years straight?

She had immediately recognized him as a criminal the first time that they at met, when she had 'sworn her loyalty' to Tom Riddle himself. Of course, she had never seen the actual king himself, to her great disappointment, though said king had been easy to fool. But Nott and his friends… They didn't trust her so easily. They had almost caught her once when she had been passing information to her boss, Cornelius Fudge. Ever since then, they had never left her alone. She should have known that they would have followed her after learning that Riddle had given her the first assassination assignment.

If someone had asked her ten years ago about what she wanted to be when she grew up, Hermione would have probably responded somewhere along the lines of a teacher. If someone had told her ten years ago that she would grow up to be a spy, she would have blinked and laughed. It was amazing how much she had changed. Where had that smiling, smart, and almost even a bit nosy little girl gone, with her mane of frizzy hair? She had left, changing into a totally different person, cold, cunning, sly, beautiful and deadly. Hiding her true feelings were just so easy to do. Her numerous, emotional walls that she had put up over the years made her feel a bit more secure.

She was jerked out of her thoughts as someone grabbed her ponytail, snapping her head back so quickly that for a second she thought that they had broken her neck. But spies are trained not to dawdle, and dawdle she did not, spinning around and aiming a high-heeled kick. There was a crack as it connected with the jaw of another man. "You… filthy, lying little bitch…" he gasped before collapsing unconscious onto the floor.

A fist came up on her left side and she dodged it, grabbing the wrist and snapping it at a seemingly unnatural angle. Someone yelled and she spun around, only to find herself face to face with a pair of startling crimson eyes.

"Ron!" she gasped, almost jumping in surprise. Her partner raised an eyebrow at her, an unconscious man swung limply over his shoulder. She couldn't remember the last time that they had fought together like this.

"So, even after years and months, you thought you'd have fun without me, 'Mione?" he asked, feigning hurt as he dumped the man on the ground. One enraged teammate staggered to his feet and attempted to attack Ron from behind. The redhead yawned and raised a hand. He carelessly flicked the man under the chin and the opponent fell onto the ground, dazed.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. Some people just couldn't figure her partner out. _Ex-partner_, she reminded herself. One moment he'd be grumpy, snappy and weak; the next he'd be cheerful and knocking people out with just a flick of his fingers. Others called his power while fighting "Weasley Magic" but Hermione knew that it was just strange, nearly godlike strength.

"What are you doing here?" the woman whispered, spinning around, eyes narrowed and looking for other signs of movement. "Let's hope that that's all of them. If any of Riddle's supporters find us together here, he'll never trust me again. And by the sounds of it, they're coming," she murmured. Several yells came to them in the distance, getting gradually louder. Spinning around to face him again, he noticed something else in her eyes. Something like… sorrow? "Just to be safe," she whispered, before jumping forward towards him and pulling back a fist.

Ron's eyes widened before he bit his lip, preparing for impact. Instead, he felt her hand touch his stomach lightly, though her eyes glittered and she whispered ever so softly, "Play along…"

He blinked but leaned forward onto her shoulder, face contorted in fake pain. He adjusted his head so that his lips were close to her ear and closed his eyes, pretending to be knocked out. "Did he give you an assignment?" he whispered, barely daring to move his lips. He silently took in the scent of her hair. They had been going out before, and things had been looking quite well until Cornelius had given her the order to join with Riddle in hopes of luring him out.

Hermione resisted a small shiver at the feeling of his breath against her neck. _Dammit…_ _I have to stop thinking like this…_ Slowly, she placed a small wad of paper in Ron's hand, the remainder of a previous email that she had printed out. "Give it to Fudge," she breathed. At the same time, she took a deep breath and pushed Ron off of her onto the ground.

Not a moment too soon, several other figures came running towards them. Riddle's Death Eaters. Ron hid his sudden shock and lay still, as limply as he could, his hand still clenched around the small piece of parchment that Hermione had given him. To the world, he was dead. But if anyone had cared to look, however, they might have caught the glimmer of his red eyes underneath his eyelids.

"What the hell?"

"What happened?"

"Is that… _Nott_?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Ron could see Hermione doubled over, panting heavily with pain on her usually smooth face and leaning against the wall, her gun trembling in her hands. Damn she was a good actor. He now knew why Cornelius had picked her for the job. Maybe in a next life, she'd apply for a job at Hollywood.

One of the Death Eaters walked over to Hermione and rubbed her back encouragingly. "What happened?" It was a woman's voice, light and slightly sharp.

"Nott…" Hermione gasped, a hand on the back of her neck where she really did get hurt. "He's in league with that damn Weasley. Attacked me… when I wasn't ready…"

Someone cursed and Ron shut his eyes as a hooded man walked over to him. His heartbeat quickened and he forced himself not to breathe.

Inches away, he hear Hermione pitch in again. "Avery… Leave the bloody traitors… We've no use for them." She coughed into her hand before struggling to stand upright. "Besides, if they…" another cough, "if they mess things up again, Tom'll just kill them…"

The silence stretched on before someone sighed and there was the rustle of cloth and the stomp of shoes. "I'll leave this guy alive. Not that I'd listen to you, but just to make things more interesting later." Something nudged his ribs and Ron caught himself in time before he twitched. Quickly, the footsteps faded, not before there was a crack of a gun.

Ron swallowed. Had they killed Nott?

He waited for at least ten minutes before daring to move, yawning and feeling his jaw crack. He rubbed his forehead, blinked several times and then stretched, a common routine that he used every morning right after waking up. He turned to his left and found himself staring into a pair of lifeless eyes. Nott.

"Bloody Death Eaters," he mumbled, finally daring to open and read the piece of parchment that had remained hidden in his hand. Elegant cursive covered the wrinkled surface, written with the grace of an old-fashioned quill. His eyes widened and he jumped up, reading it over twice more before glancing at his watch. 6:24. Shit.

Hermione… How was she going to pull this off?

Slowly, he looked down once again, reading the woman's new assassination assignment.

You are to help Draco Malfoy Slytherin in the murder of Harry Potter. Go to the downtown mall at 6:30. I'll give you one week.

"Harry Potter?" Ron growled to himself, grabbing the paper tightly as if he wouldn't believe it unless he read it outloud. "Draco Malfoy? Murder?" Harry was a child-hood friend of Hermione's. Ron suddenly wondered what her true task from Fudge had been. The man had never completely told him the answer. Gritting his teeth, Ron turned and sprinted towards the road. The first thing that he would do once he got back into the department was to ask Fudge just what Hermione's 'mission' was.

Smirking at a few passing girls who giggled and walked quickly away, blushing madly, Draco leaned casually against the side of the escalator as he was transported up to the main part of the mall. This place felt almost a little foreign to him — he hadn't been in such a crowded place for months.

With the first step that he had taken outside of his apartment building into the light, his white skin had already begun to protest. Now, inside a cool, air conditioned building, he realized that the mall was indeed better then the atmosphere outside.

Stepping off of the moving stairs, Draco adjusted his shades with a pale finger before moving forward. These damn glasses. He hated them, but they were a necessity if he wanted to hide his eyes, in case a person might recognize him for who he really was: Draco Malfoy — the silver-eyed murderer. Pairs of eyes stared at him, mostly girls, and he merely nodded to them, the usual smirk playing about his features as he blended into the crowd as casually as he could.

Though socializing was a completely foreign language to him, he had to admit that there was one good thing about it — dressing up. He'd barely bothered wearing anything decent in his one-roomed apartment, usually just comfortable shirts and sweat pants. It had been a while since he'd allowed himself a bit of pampering, and by the hungry glances of passing females, he could tell that it was working pretty well, even though his black leather pants were just a _little_ bit too tight for comfort.

He had slipped on a regular white shirt, not bothering to fasten most of the buttons. His trademark choker necklace rested comfortably on his collarbone, with a small silver dragon in front. He had worn it in hopes that whoever he was supposed to meet would be able recognize him easier. His watch beeped lightly signaling that it was 6:30.

He decided to go window shopping and suddenly wondered for the fifth time in the past ten minutes just _how_ he was supposed to be able to meet a single person in a crowd this big. He shrugged the thought aside, and then wondered if this had perhaps been a trap, set by the police or Cornelius Fudge himself. Draco tensed for a moment before smirking. Fudge wasn't that smart. And even if it was a trap, Draco was prepared. In a small pouch attached to his waist he had placed several of his darts, throwing cards, and the gun that his father had given him, small enough to fit in his hand and made with the right materials so that it was unable to be detected with any kind of security.

He blinked and realized that he had walking in front of a woman's clothing department. Running a hand through his hair, Draco turned and headed casually towards the C.D. store.

He chanced a glance at his watch. 6:41. So maybe Riddle had forgotten, or maybe he had just been stood up. Sighing and fuming ever so slightly, the assassin turned and headed for the nearest exit. Screw Harry Potter. He wasn't going to wait any longer.

The crowd thickened near the door. Fighting his way through the mass of people and feeling rather small with the many people pressed tightly against him, he was caught completely off guard as something hard was shoved into the small of his back. He immediately tensed. A gun. Someone laughed and a soft breath brushed his neck. "Malfoy."

He turned around, eyes flashing underneath his dark shades, and met a pretty, feminine face. The brunette removed the gun, twirled it around her fingers, and said object disappeared. Ignoring his startled glance, she whispered softly, "Hey Slytherin…" And with that, the girl turned and glided smoothly through the crowds.

Draco was at her heels in an instant, careful to put some distance between the two to prevent suspicions.


End file.
